I love superheroes. I am the mother who, for years, told bedtime stories to her young boys of her epic midnight capers as Catwoman.

My children believed for the longest time that I was out fighting crime while they slept, and yet I still managed to bake fresh blueberry scones for breakfast. Each night before bed I would reveal details of the last evening’s escapades and then swear them to secrecy. That was so my enemies wouldn’t find us.

This was a source of excitedly hushed discussions between my boys. As they grew older, they realized first, it wasn’t true. (“I saw you sleeping in your bed last night, mom,” I was accused, “you were not in a black leather suit jumping over rooftops.”) But next, they understood that the Mom/Catwoman they had come to see me as was… complicated.

They read in their comic books that when Catwoman was not fighting crime, she was actually the one causing the mayhem. Mom. Catwoman. Villain. Hero. Huh? This conundrum had them steeped in cognitive dissonance for some time. “Who is our mom, really?”

And that’s a good question.

Who are any of us, really?

Some of us are posing as the squeaky clean hero. Pure, unquestionable apple pie goodness. But no hero fits that restrictive description. Then there are a few among us who believe we must act out the opposite, the villainous character that breaks every rule in opposition to all that is.

And the superheroes we love, well, that limit doesn’t fit them either: they do a lot of awesome stuff.

Besides, acting out anything too simplistic is just not human.

Because to be human is to be real in all its complexity. And to be real is part of what makes us truly heroic.

So why do we love our superheroes? Is it not for their deeds of courage and valor? Sure. I, for one, love to see the bad guys get pummeled Marvel-style. But why I’m so fascinated by superheroes, so in love with them, now that’s different all together.

Because it’s not just for their good deeds, and it’s not just despite their character flaws.

I love superheroes for their flaws, and for the action they take to both reconcile and harness them. Do they somehow, over time, find a way to abandon their dark side? Hell no! This is what makes them powerful.

These mythical men and women operate with gusto as they first try to reject, then battle, and finally accept and harness their shadows. They don’t overcome their dark sides as much as integrate them. Their shadows propel them forward on their quests, their hero’s journey; with focus and determination they become powerful forces for crime-fighting.

And just how do they fight the bad guys? Hello, dark side.

Think about it. How does Batman’s obsessive compulsiveness, The Hulk’s rage, Wolverine’s temper and brooding, or Storm’s claustrophobia actually operate as a source of, or motivation for, powerful action?

Each of the superheroes we adore is imperfect, and endures an epic battle, not only with the evil without but with the darkness within.

For many of us, it’s our life’s work to wrestle with our demons, to move through that battle to the other side with acceptance, and finally, to integrate this shadow, moving from shame to light, from powerlessness to action.

On our human heroic quest, we are learning to take what we formerly denied, to make actionable what used to terrify, petrify and immobilize us, and to harness it for a higher purpose.

And if even a semblance of this is true, then why are we trying to be perfect, or one-dimensional in any way? All this striving for perfection can feel both self-righteous and ironically inhuman.

I’m not knocking healthy living and high aspirations. I’m impacted by the power of my own self-discipline or lack of it, and I get that we always have choice. But how can anyone pretend to be so good all the time? And what other human can authentically relate to us when we are modeling a pretense?

Rather, isn’t it exquisitely disarming when someone reveals their flaws in an authentic way, without shame, and embraces their entire humanity, foibles and all?

Yes, we love our superheroes because of their flaws, not despite them.

And think for a moment of all the real depth and growth you’ve had in your life, with your commitments, relationships, and learning and development of all sorts. Where did it actually come from? For me it has grown in tandem with the challenges imperfection dutifully, and thankfully, throws in my path.

Very often, my greatest growth has bloomed from a conflict, a disagreement, a disruption, a change, a discomfort, or even a deep grief that was first stepped into, and then transcended.

And what about those touching and vulnerable times: the deepest conversations, the closest connections, the most open hearts. All that is raw, and real. Someone was willing to split themselves wide open to get there. Someone else was willing to embrace the raw.

Conversely, can you recall the sense of disconnection when we, or another, insisted on staying muted, cloaked, or hidden? Notice how connected and disconnected we all have the power to be each moment in our human relationships.

And what about those truly powerful times, when we feel our cape is securely fastened and we really are leaping over rooftops? Times when we are vibrating with aliveness? Are we not somehow harnessing that deep, and authentic part of ourselves, a part that we may have been fearful of, or even tried to hide in the past?

And isn’t it also our darkness brought to light ultimately where not only true connection, but deep desire, breeds in our intimate relationships? The longings? The cravings? The deliciously daring?

The truth is, we don’t really want another human who is perfect. So why are we trying to be perfect?

And how would today look if we asked ourselves this question and then took appropriate action, “How would it feel to drop even a small part of my facade and embrace something inside I’ve been denying, for example, my compassion, my softness, my sexuality, or my powerful, warrior self?”

I’m guessing that, in that moment, it would feel super-heroic.

*****

Carla Poertner is a writer, certified life coach, and mother of three boys. You can read her latest articles and hear about upcoming free webinars by visiting her website and subscribing there.

If it’s getting too comfortable, I morph into a lazy, slow, dull version of myself that’s pretty boring and doesn’t do any good. No inspiration, no drama, what’s the point?

That’s why I need pain; I’m addicted to suffering. Nothing else keeps me busy and consumed, granting full access to my psyche, the mysteries of the Universe, parallel realms and sources of otherworldly wisdom, to the abysses where my gold is hidden.

I dive into the depths burning my soul again and again. Until eventually only the essence will remain — my incombustible core. It’s called Alchemy.

And my sure-fire tool for fueling this process, for keeping the heat at the highest level possible, is resistance.

The saying goes that already at my birth I resisted while entering this world. I had an utter aversion against life. I refused to be fed. I didn’t take milk, nor tea, nor water. I went pro in taking no shit right from the start.

I might have taken it too seriously, practiced this skill too excessively, but I could sense even back then that I was sent here on Earth to accomplish great things.

Like getting several highly decorated degrees in having no clue, but rejecting any advice and authority. I can’t stand it when someone just knows what I should do, how I should live my life, my life! So I earned my doctorate degree in “No!” (I’m fluent in all kinds, flavors and expressions of No, my specialty is passive-aggressive rebellion).

Even now, when I’m broke, stuck, depressed, I still manage to hold my head up high, thoroughly maintaining my hard-earned level of resistance. This dark pervert part in me has the lead, still. It is crazy, mad, irresponsible, but so fucking strong and powerful; it’s holding the reins of my life with an iron fist.

It also has a counterpart, a nice and reasonable one, which is fully aware of the enormousness of the disaster which I am poignantly, lovingly calling my life, and which is begging me on sore knees to take the next step. It’s not telling me to stop, because it’s smart, this begging bugger.

What it is doing instead is trying to lure me with a challenge: I don’t have to give up being an Alchemist, but I could climb higher on the ladder and refine my technique. Alchemizing resistance into surrender.

Dude, Universe! Me? Letting go of resistance?

I am high-end resistance in person!

I know, I know… this process would be all the more rewarding because of it. Because, I guess, the result, coming from this pure and concentrated form of resistance, would be the most complete, soft, melted liquid golden surrender the world has ever seen.

Although I know how big the reward (sadly, trying to motivate me with promising rewards never evoked my interest, but pain works well quite often… of course), whenever I try to just make a resolution to choose surrender instead of resistance… Boom! Some area in my life gets shattered into pieces, making sure I’m going to stay in this place of deliciously lucid pain.

Who would voluntarily want to leave this behind for surrender? I don’t know surrender — who can tell whether it’s worth to let the suffering go? After all, I’m proud of my high-quality resistance! It’s all I’ve really got.

I think in fact I do know surrender. I’m even brilliant at it. I’ve totally surrendered my life to resistance, a source of pain that’s never going to run dry; the work of a genius. Mastering what seems like paradox.

Perfect Alchemy: in resistance I surrender.

*****

Lina Boldt is a seeker, healer and writer, she has a Ninja-warrior survival record, and can often be found in the thick of deep transformational work, which made her gain quite some expertise in breakdowns and breakthroughs. Her current mission is all about surrender, and she can’t live without chocolate. You can connect with her on Facebook.

I’m not a fan of labels, as I find them too narrow and confining. But when I read her fascinating book, it helped me to understand myself in a startlingly new and positive way. When I first read the list of characteristics that describe a Highly Sensitive Person, only half on the list seemed to apply to me.

The characteristics that did resonate, however, spoke very loud and clear to me about my innate nature. It was like finding the golden key that began to unlock parts of myself that I did not quite understand and deemed weak or unworthy. I felt enormous relief, comfort and deep gratitude.

And I learned to value this trait as a cherished part of myself, instead of something to be shunned or judged.

With age and a whisper of wisdom, I have learned to see the trait of sensitivity not as a defect, but as a gift that allows me to see and experience life with greater insight, heightened awareness and compassion. It has also taught me humility and empathy.

I see how I clearly struggle at times and it makes me more in tune with, and sensitive to, the more severe mental and emotional struggles that people endure and overcome on a daily basis. I have also learned strategies and skills that allow me to live a full, rich life while protecting my highly sensitive nervous system.

According to Aron, many HSPs are introverts. I’ve come to recognize that I’m an introvert who sometimes enjoys masquerading as a wild extrovert. I am not prone to having my feelings easily hurt by others. I am not overly delicate or fragile emotionally, and I don’t need or expect everyone to like me.

I have no problem with speaking my mind to the few or to the many.

My heart doesn’t bruise from the harsh words of others, but I do often feel the weight of the world with all its sadness, grief and loss — immensely and deeply.

The official definition of an introvert is someone who turns inward and is contemplative by nature. I’ve always been that way. I was a loner and dreamer as a child, and have been a daily meditator for almost 35 years. I thoroughly enjoy and thrive in my own company, and though that may come off as aloof to some folks, I am simply practicing radical self-care.

I am a living, breathing contradiction, and have grown to love and appreciate my many unnamed desires and subtle complexities. I choose not to live in the land of black and white absolutes, as life is infinitely more interesting and entertaining in the grey realm of ambiguity.

I love travel, but hate early mornings and try to avoid them as best as I can. I love the culture, excitement and stimulation of great cities, but crave the peace and comfort of nature.

My perfect vacation has both — a small cruise liner with fine food that stops at wonderful, intriguing ports of call, and has a large private balcony so I can gaze out at the ocean and stars for hours.

I enjoy dressing up, going out in the town and meeting interesting people — I just like them for a short time, and with an exit strategy if necessary.

“I love humanity, I just have a hard time with people.” ~ Albert Einstein

As a fashion model for most of my life, I love the freedom of expression in being in front of the camera and the fun of walking the runway.

Having to change clothes and be naked backstage or on a photo shoot was, and still is, no big deal to me. I am completely at ease with nudity, so shy is not a word that would typically be used to describe me. I feel no angst at all when I am being interviewed on TV to promote my book, and love speaking in front of large audiences or leading workshops.

Definitely not traits one would associate with an introvert.

I can comfortably feel and act like an extrovert for a short period of time and actually enjoy it — but once I pass my threshold, I can get seriously depleted and have to hibernate in order to recharge. I need a lot of quiet alone time to be well and sane.

When I overextend myself, I pay the price and my health suffers, so I am vigilant about looking after myself.

I make no apologies about that, and have no qualms about putting myself first. I have learned that self-care is a necessity, not a luxury, and that I don’t need permission from anyone to take care of myself. Being an HSP does not define me, but it does affect how I live my life and how I move through the world.

I know myself, what works for me, and what doesn’t. I challenge myself at times, but not at the expense of my health and wellness. I will happily not be bungee jumping, skydiving, or climbing Mount Everest anytime soon!

I plan my life, my socializing and travel as best I can around my HSP nature.

I used to criticize myself that I couldn’t match the energy level of others, especially my husband’s. He needs quiet also, but we’re just wired differently. His tolerance level is different from mine. Not better, just different.

I never watch violent movies — I am way too sensitive. He loves sci-fi and horror flicks. What can I say — we have different tastes and sensitivities.

Everyone has their gaps, and we have learned to help and support each other’s wiring. He’s good at working the room at social gatherings, and I need escape plans. He’s not good at multitasking and planning ahead, whereas this is second nature to me. We try and make it work for both of us.

With understanding and compromise we have learned to navigate our way to balance our different styles and nature.

I am very protective of my energy and space, but some people are energy vampires who suck the life right out of you. They blast into a room with the vibration and whirlwind of a frenzied tornado, and literally leave everyone gasping for air. You know the ones I’m talking about.

Then there are the well-meaning extroverts who like the sound of their own voice, or they have a chip missing in their brain and don’t know when to be quiet.

Frankly, I get quite exhausted around them — so I try to avoid them as best I can. Being stuck in a car with one of these generally good-natured, but oblivious, souls is excruciating when they just don’t stop talking. In my mind I count the minutes till I can escape as fast and as far as I can.

Having clear boundaries about what and who I allow in my life has been a necessary and integral part of my self-care and wellness practice.

I hate loud noises, florescent lights, big crowds and over-stimulation of the senses. I avoid shopping malls, stores and restaurants where I cannot hear myself speak.

Small talk and idle chatter drain me, and long-winded people who keep repeating themselves when they talk test my patience level. I have some virtues, but alas, patience is not one of them.

Very late nights and jet lag throw me off for days, though that doesn’t stop me from traveling.

It’s kind of like being in labor when you’re pregnant. You forget how horrendous the pain was, or else you wouldn’t do it again. It’s a bit like that with jet lag — no matter how loopy and ghastly I feel (jet lag really does make me feel sick), I know from experience that it always passes.

Sleep is my Number One health aid and beauty aid. I’m just not one of those people who can get by on five or six hours of sleep. I look and feel truly terrible. I need a solid eight or nine hours to function well.

I’ve read that the more enlightened one becomes, the less sleep one needs. Clearly I have a very, very long way to go towards achieving enlightenment.

I’m not big on group stuff, and prefer exercising in nature, though I do enjoy a power workout at the gym when the weather is poor. I also love to let loose on the dance floor for a solid hour or two, but then I’m done. Home to a soothing bath and bed.

I prefer a small intimate dinner party, with meaningful conversation, over superficial schmoozing at a big party. I have to constantly find the balance between how much socializing and solitude I need.

Sometimes I can do more, sometimes less. I’ve become a devoted loving master at attending to my health needs.

I also try to limit my time online. The relentless checking of emails, texts, FB, etc. can be draining and damaging to the psyche. I do not need or want to be in the know all the time. I know what I’m missing, and I’m glad to miss it.

In our modern world, it’s very hard to shut out the external din that’s going on all around us. 24 hours a day we are bombarded by constant noise and over-stimulation of our senses. I was staying at a swank hotel recently and there were TVs in the elevators — God forbid we should have a little quiet for a few moments on our way down to the lobby!

It’s environmental stress like this that really does a number on my nervous system.

Health-wise, I limit sugar and alcohol and have just one coffee in the morning. I always start the day with a soothing brew of hot water, fresh lemon, ginger, turmeric and a dash of cayenne powder. It’s great for the digestion, but also revs up my morning energy before I work out. For extra energy during the day, I drink Yerba Mate and green tea.

A Japanese study showed that most introverts have low blood pressure and mine is so low sometimes it’s a wonder I’m not dead! Many years of daily meditation is also part of why it’s low, so it’s a blessing, not a concern.

Many HSPs are artists and healers. We are intuitive and sensitive to those around us. We have rich inner lives, vivid dreams, and are drawn to animals, art, music and nature. We are protective of the underdog and stand up for justice and equality — some quietly, some of us with a roar.

This insane world of ours is filled with violence, cruelty and chaos. We needs more sensitive souls. We have enough warriors — we need the teachers, the poets and philosophers. We need the dreamers and the lovers. We need people like you and me.

“The plain fact is that the planet does not need more successful people. But it does desperately need more peacemakers, healers, restorers, storytellers, and lovers of every kind. It needs people who live well in their places. It needs people of moral courage willing to join the fight to make the world habitable and humane. And these qualities have little to do with success as we have defined it.” ~ David W. Orr, Ecological Literacy: Educating Our Children for a Sustainable World

Sometimes life as an HSP can be overwhelming and exhausting. The world can seem just too intense and excruciatingly raw. It can also be rich, rewarding and incredibly beautiful when you learn to take care of yourself, and value and protect your unique sensitivity instead of judging.

And really, I’m not anti-social, I’m just pro solitude.

*****

Angela Paul is an author, model, speaker and life coach whose main focus is on relationships, marriage, life transitions and graceful aging. Her most recent book, The Beauty of Aging: A Woman’s Guide to Joyful Living, inspires and empowers women of all ages to fearlessly embrace the wisdom and beauty of aging. Angela was born and raised in Yorkshire, England, lived in Tokyo for many years and currently resides in Los Angeles. She is a long time meditator of over 30 years, travels extensively and spends as much time as she can at the beach in Malibu. A lover of solitude and nature Angela considers herself to be a Highly Sensitive Person who also joyfully exhibits occasional shades of a wild extrovert. She rarely Tweets, but you can follow her on Facebook or check out her website.

These are some stellar reflections that may stir our soul during Leo Season, when the Sun is in the sign of art, heart and beauty. This year, Leo Season occurs from July 22 to August 23.

As Leo rules the heart, we’re pulled towards wanting to source our expressions, actions and feelings from the vital alembic of love during this time. Joy becomes our GPS, an inner compass from which we orient.

We can connect with greater playfulness and reconnect with our inner child. And while this can fuel our exuberance, it can also have us revisiting those prickly spots that have come along for the ride since we were younger. So keep an extra dose of tenderness and self-compassion in your proverbial backpack for those just-in-case times.

During these weeks, our life becomes a canvas upon which we can paint the visions and inspirations that live within, casting them out with flair, fun, and perhaps a bit of Leonine fanfare. We’re drawn to art, whether making it or witnessing it, as a vehicle to stir and enliven our soul.

Like its planetary ruler, the Sun, Leo may magnetize people towards wanting to be the center of their personal solar systems. This can allow for the installation of healthy self-esteem for those who often shirk behind the curtains of visibility, and yet it may also engender an overemphasis of a look at me inclination for others.

During the month when the Sun is in Leo, the sign of the Sun God, we may find ourselves embarking on our own personal hero/ine’s journey. We’re off on an adventure of self-discovery, the path of which could possible involve a necessary-for-growth obstacle or two, and yet one that leads to a sense of victory that allows us to return transformed.

We’re drawn to beam the hue of bravery that allows us to stand out from the crowd, to be more than ordinary, to own our extra-ordinariness. And yet, as we’re pulled to shine, we want to do so in a dignified manner, maintaining a sense of Leonine royalty, for fear of embarrassing ourselves or tarnishing how people see us.

The Full and New Moon during Leo Season can help us to further tap into the opportunities for evolving that abound.

Occurring on July 31, the Full Moon features the Moon in the socially oriented sign of Aquarius. Themes may revolve around individuals and their relationship to the collective.

We are drawn to find that tricky balance point where we can confidently support a group mission while at the same time feeling recognized for the special unique contribution we feel that only we can make.

The New Moon graces us on August 14, and with that, we have the ability to embark on a fresh chapter of a creative pursuit. Whether it’s a new art project or just infusing your everyday life with more art, plant a seed of intention of what you want to inspire.

The Leo New Moon provides us an opportunity to shine, to give birth to our visions of how we want to express and experience more heartfelt love and joy.

Looking for some extra support and encouragement as you radiate through Leo Season? Here are four flower essences* that align with the sign of the times.

Borage: Leo energy inspires us to live through our hearts, expressing warmth to those around us. Yet, sometimes being openhearted can be challenging if we’re also connecting to grief and sorrow, which could cast pallor over our hearts.

Buttercup: When you need some support stoking the inner flame of self-value, Buttercup flower essence may be of benefit. It’s especially good for periods when we are judging ourselves by external markers of success that, in turn, degrade our sense of self-worth.

It helps shift the source of light from the locus of the unreliable external to the eternally-sustaining internal.

Indian Paintbrush: Sometimes when we connect to the inner muse, and artistic inspiration flows through us, we can create with abandon. Yet other times the stream of creativity seems to be blocked and it’s challenging to rouse the physical energy we need to support our artistic endeavors.

For times when you need to fill the well of creativity that sources from your body and the physical world, try Indian Paintbrush flower essence.

Sunflower: With Leo ruling the Sun, this season allows us the ability to harness our inner solar fire. If our alliance with our masculine side is not in harmony, low self-esteem or heightened self-glory can manifest, dimming the luminescence of our powerful self-expression, our ability to radiate our essential self.

Sunflower flower essence bolsters internal solar energy, allowing us to radiate a healthier and more balanced sense of I.

* Flower essences are natural elixirs that work energetically to restore emotional and mental balance. You can find them in natural food stores or holistic pharmacies.

*****

As a wellness alchemist, Stephanie Gailing weaves together astrology, flower essence therapy, dreamwork, and compassion-based coaching. Author of Planetary Apothecary: An Astrological Approach to Health and Wellness and her new Stellar LookBook series, Stephanie counsels clients, teaches workshops, writes about holistic well-being, and crafts custom-designed flower essence elixirs. You can find more about her and her work at her website.

It starts as your eyes dart across your first soul-swept source of inspiration, and soon enough you find yourself lost in a whole new world of perspective.

Curiosity is at an all-time high, and a new-found zest for life is itching to break free. You’re done with gossip, the bullshit and the stress, and with just that simple declaration, a new door has opened, giving you a tiny glimpse of a different way of being, one that you can’t just ignore.

The questions start rolling through your mind, and you begin to catch yourself thinking and pondering on this life of yours, more so than ever.

Your intuition is screaming at you, There has to be a better way, and you’ve finally decided to listen and let your intrigued and curious heart explore what it means to live a life no longer driven by fear, ego or society, but one that thrives on passion, love and meaning. You’re keen to to dive in, and soak up every bit of wisdom you can.

I don’t blame you, I recall this feeling making its divine debut in my life way back when. It’s inspiring and awakening, and ever so mysterious, through a path that never does quite match the expectations we hold at the beginning. Though, all great things never really do.

Here are a few truths that I know I certainly didn’t anticipate at the beginning of this ever-evolving journey through health, life and love. Perhaps they might just be the truths to help you steer your own:

1. You will never find the answer to your question. You will simply become more and more content with never knowing.

This has been the biggest lesson of all. The more I learn, the more my eyes open to the gifts before me, the more I have come to understand that what I seek to love, embrace, explore and feel is a never-ending journey. With every moment of realization comes another opportunity to shed another layer and go deeper.

Everything can make perfect sense one minute, and not at all the next. You will continue to question everything you believe in and all that you stand for. But that right there is exactly what keeps us in our seeker high.

I once heard Tara Bliss say that her mission in life is simply to get to know herself each and every day. This resonates with me so much, and whilst it will be my mission my whole lifetime, nothing gives me more happiness than knowing that I will never quite reach the end of this magical adventure.

2. Once you pop, you can’t stop. And similarly, once you learn, you can never unlearn — and you simply don’t want to.

Awareness is a very powerful thing. And once your awareness has been shifted over to the work that you are meant to do in this life, or the inner workings of your precious soul, there is no escaping. You are now a member of life, for life. Welcome to the gang!

3. Despite perceiving the stages of growth of those around you as behind or ahead of you, there is no race. In fact, there is no ahead or behind. You are your only source of measure.

I fell for this trap early on. I visually measured my own spirituality, health, and self-awareness on a scale of 0 to 10, and lined up all of my teachers, inspirations, and role models around me on that scale. I saw them as having something I didn’t.

Something I was yet to acquire, instead of understanding that I already had everything I needed within me, and that everything would be revealed to me as i was ready to receive.

Your journey is exactly that — your journey. You can seek guidance and support from those around you, but they will never know the profound, deep shifts that resonate in your soul. As you will not know theirs. Knowing what this journey means to you, and completely embracing your own personal story, is the only way to live.

4. The less you do, the more you will achieve.

This was a hard one for me, and making the daily changes required to slowly break free from the head-down-bum-up, read-every-resource-you-can, do-do-do mentality is still an ongoing process. But when you do it right, it’s like a wave of clarity, purpose and revelation comes washing over you.

Feel before thinking. Be before doing. Know what it feels like to live this journey. Because otherwise you are simply watching from the sidelines.

5. Silence is golden.

Space is your friend here, in every sense of the word. Space in your surroundings. Space in your schedule. Space in between conversations. Space in between actions. Coming home to yourself is not about filling your life with more. It’s about getting rid of the excess so you can finally have space to see things for what they are.

Being present in what is at that very moment. And leaning into the uncomfortable, awkward silence that shines light on your bare truths. Soon, you will have it no other way.

6. It can be brutally lonely.

In that period of transformation where everything is being questioned, so are your friendships and relationships. And though change is inevitable, and it is through making space in our life that we can receive the new, there is always going to be a time of stillness in our life that has us feeling a little alone in our journey.

It can be hard. In fact, I recall many nights in tears, desperate for people who would understand my desire for deeper connection and resonance. But, they always come. And when they do, the joy and light that comes from these pure angels is nothing short of a miracle. Hang in there, babe. Your soul sisters are looking for you too.

In fact, why don’t you be the seeker you are and get yourself out there and show people the amazing soul you are? Immerse yourself in the circles you wish to dance in. Introduce yourself to those who you aspire to connect with. Use your loneliness as a springboard into connections you have always dreamed of. They’ll be incredibly grateful that you did.

7. You will never be bored again.

Living in the now is your ticket to never-ending adventure, and I can honestly say that I haven’t felt bored in a very long time. Life is my playground, and as long as I am living my truth, every minute holds opportunity, growth and possibility.

8. You will lose yourself and then find yourself more times than you can count.

As soon as you start to feel like you have it all figured out, you can bet that the Universe has something new and out of left field to deliver. As soon as it all starts to make sense, a new door opens that blows it all out of the water and has you questioning everything you have ever believed in.

But that’s what’s so magical about it. The constant cycle of renewal and rebirth. That deep understanding that nothing will ever stay the same, and we will always be hand-balled an opportunity to once again wake up, be inspired and remember who we are. For that, right there, is when we feel most alive!

9. You will often need to come out of your little bubble to truly understand how far you have come.

I’m guilty of this. I get lost in my little world of wellness and forget that not everybody lives this way. I let my expectations mirror this, and I forget that whilst this may feel like my norm now, it wasn’t always this way.

We can curse the moments when we find ourselves disconnected and surrounded by those who don’t understand or respect the practices we now cherish, but it is in these moments that we can truly celebrate how much we have grown.

10. Just because you’re making changes on the inside, doesn’t mean you have to make changes on the outside.

Let me make this clear — being present, self-aware and valuing your health does not mean you have to go get yourself a pair of Birkenstocks, buy a meditation cushion and become vegan! Nor do you have to ditch the makeup, spend your pay at Lorna Jane, or always walk the street with a smile from ear to ear.

Your journey, your life, your way. If you’re in it to fit in, then you’re doing it wrong!

11. It can be both the most rewarding and heartbreaking journey of your life.

Some days this journey of self-awareness and exploration will leave you feeling full to the brim with joy, empowerment and vitality. And others will almost break you. With deep self-inquiry comes answers to questions we may not expect, believe or want to hear — yet if you choose to ask, you have to be prepared to hear the answer.

Your intuition always wins, so if you choose not to hear it now, you can be sure it will persist, and one day you have no choice but to listen. Getting to know your truth can be a very revealing process, and it’s certainly not for the faint-hearted.

12. You will have not choice but to be vulnerable…

… If you choose to really live. To connect. To feel. To experience the life-altering shifts that lie before you. Vulnerability is the key to a life of heart-opening, raw, honest love, and once you have had a taste of its power, anything less will leave you deeply unfulfilled.

13. You will learn to love fear.

And whilst you might not want to admit it, you will start to crave the way she stretches you into new dimensions and tests your foundations. You will see fear as the invitation she is to live deeper, widen your scope of vision, and readjust your level of comfort.

Fear begins to symbolize the start of new adventure, the starting line for new thrills and spills, and everything your seeker heart knows will turn out for the best.

14. Self-love really is the foundation of everything you desire.

Self-love allows you to peel back the layers of trust and faith. Self-love becomes both your cause and treatment, the purpose of your self-inquiry and the medicine you use to get through.

Love, in all its forms, is always at the root of every desire, and as we spend our life seeking for it outside of ourselves, we soon come to realize that it has always been within us. It is the type of love that trumps all others, and unlocks all the wonders we will ever seek.

So seek within for love first and foremost, and know that with self-love will come a lifetime of never-ending peace and contentment.

*****

Tara Caetano is a certified coach, speaker and writer that mentors daring women with bad-ass dreams to take the leap and make this life their bitch. A world-wanderer and passionate ocean-child, she shares delicious inspiration and advice with her online Feed Me community, as well as on Facebook and Instagram. Get on the love list for a weekly buffet of inspiration straight to your inbox.

It’s likely anyone with an online connection has heard about the horrifically tragic death of Cecil the lion. He was an adored and lawfully protected 13-year-old lion living in the Zimbabwean Hwange National Park. He was renowned for his friendliness towards park visitors, led two prides containing six lionesses, and was a father to 12 lion cubs.

He was a supremely stately soul by any standard, and lived with regal integrity rivaling some people I politely won’t name.

Now Walter Palmer, a dentist in Minnesota, along with two others in Zimbabwe, are accused of illegally hunting Cecil and shooting him dead earlier this month. The instant online vilification of Mr. Palmer is easy and understandable.

He’s claiming gross ignorance to anything illegal in nature relating to his actions and is reportedly upset that he unknowingly took Cecil (took being an extremely curious choice of words here, and more on that later. I tend to get upset if I spill my coffee in the morning or the traffic is exceptionally heavy but hey, everyone’s different I guess).

With his obscenely questionable moral respect for life in general standards, we’re indulging our want to seek justice and vengeance for Cecil.

Mr. Palmer’s dental practice website and Facebook page were swiftly removed from the internet, so I spent the better part of a late afternoon reading Yelp reviews of his dental practice.

Most were venomously creative and very hateful. Many people would call it justified. But justice, at its core, seeks to harmonize a situation. Lashing out in online fury and calling for his death does not accomplish harmony, nor does Cecil find justice. What it does is make us all feel better.

We can marginalize an evildoer and morally elevate ourselves. That does serve a purpose, but to really honor Cecil and find true justice, we have to seek the root cause that led to his senseless slaughter.

This is much harder work. Because we have to admit that Mr. Palmer is not a heartless demon who deserves to be hunted down and killed.

Because he’s a human being who’s part (and now a perfectly clueless poster child) of a pandemic problem. One that lawfully allowed him to behave in such a morally incomprehensible manner; most of us can’t fathom how he could do what he did.

But this is our collective madness. We live in a world where our moral compass is directed by dollars, not sense, and somehow, in some insane way, we all just carry on and learn to live with it.

Collective madness is more of a philosophical term, and it’s difficult to hammer down an official definition for this phenomenon. Here’s my best personal attempt to echo Coelho’s brilliant sentiment:

Outlandishly unethical or unreasonable practices and principles within society widely accepted as standard and tolerated.

Still somewhat of an abstract definition, providing a couple of examples can help us stop the slaughter of wild wonders in our world, like Cecil:

1. Compulsive, habitual hoarding of financial wealth.

Cecil died, in part, because a dentist stashed away enough cash to buy the opportunity to stalk and stamp out Cecil for sport. Cecil is also dead, in part, because we as humans have still collectively agreed that the slaughter of animals for profit and sport is acceptable.

Gathering so much more than we would ever actually need, and praising this practice as a measure of success, has been likened to megalomania psychosis. Ancient cultures created monsters from this concept. Admitting this is an uncomfortable first step in understanding where entitlement can play into these events.

Mr. Palmer could’ve spent his over $50,000.00 gaining a once in a lifetime experience and a wealth of knowledge at a Zimbabwean Wildlife Orphanage. It would’ve been a once in a lifetime opportunity to rehabilitate and release injured or vulnerable animals into the wild.

Instead, he felt entitled and took a lion. As though Cecil, or any other living creature, was his for the taking, like an object to be collected and stored. What he did take was the life of a leader, a father, and a symbol of pride. I strongly suggest that the words giving and contribution also be promptly added to his vocabulary.

Leaving the world a better place than what we find it is the cure for this psychosis. Spending your amassed wealth (aka the equivalent of someone’s annual salary) to engage in the slaughter of a living creature is not creation of anything better. Cecil’s death represents destruction and desecration of sacredness. Period.

Call me crazy, but if we all agreed that anything that breathes or has a heartbeat was not an object to take, collect, and keep as a prize, we’d venture more into the realm of sound ethical standard. Marbles? Okay. Stamps? Cool. The skins and skulls of other living creatures as trophies? No. No. No.

2. You can kill this one, but not this, okay?

The only reason this story has made as many headlines as it has is because Cecil was a GPS-collared, lawfully protected lion. Cecil’s death was a criminal act, but the deaths of hundreds of lions just like him each year is perfectly legal. These non-protected lions die because they are not GPS-collared for conservation research purposes.

Trophy hunting is even touted as a beneficial act of support to encourage endangered species conservation, though many conservationists dispute the value of that approach. Studies show that with these big, lavish hunts, only 3% to 5% of the income from that hunt actually ends up for local people on the ground where the hunt happens.

There are much better ways to earn this kind of money — revenue from nature tourism, where the animal’s not killed, brings in three to 15 times what’s brought in from these trophy hunts in Africa.

So here’s a quick recap in case it’s unclear: A GPS-collared lion within the boundaries of a protected location, do not shoot. An un-collared lion on non-protected land, fair game. Shoot away, but make sure you pay up.

For research purposes, I visited three hunting safari websites. Two clicks later, I priced out what it would cost me to take an elephant while on a safari hunt — an average $14,000 USD, if you were curious, a mere $100 USD for a baboon, and $3500 USD for either a cheetah or a crocodile.

Each website used the term take for hunting and killing wild animals, and each praised itself in contributing to wildlife conservation efforts.

I’m venturing out on an assumptive limb here, but if we leveled this field, because we do call it sport, by say mapping out safe-spot boundaries for these animals, and were host to an orientation session on the concept of collar immunity, human hunting success rates may plummet. I know. Crazy.

While I’m not a stellar mathematician (and again, feel free to call me crazy) but taking these lives to ensure these other lives are saved is just bad math, and you guessed it, ‘collective madness’.

What black magic moral wizardry allows us to save life by taking it? It’s like hosting an orgy in support of virginity. I call bullshit, and there are likely hundreds of ideas out there better than this.

But where’s the silver lining in this absolute shit show of human depravity? The good news is that we’re not drones, and the great news is that most of us are immeasurably fortunate to live in a free world where our words and actions can dial our compass back to where most of us would like our world to be.

The truth, in this case, does not set you entirely free. This truth is ripe with responsibility to no longer tolerate or accept what we would call insane. Petition. Vote. Do not shoot animals while on safari, and learn photography instead. Ask friends, family, and your healthcare providers if they hunt magnificent creatures for sport.

Adjust your company and healthcare providers accordingly. Figure out your unique way to leave this place better than how you find it.

I sprinkle Comet on a damp blue sponge and scrub the scuff marks off the worn linoleum floor. It will never be truly clean again.

Once nearly white, it is old now, yellowed, stained and faded. My grandmother kept it spotlessly clean while she was alive, but yesterday, during the estate sale, the feet of the hundreds of people who traipsed through her kitchen left it grimy.

The bleach stings my knees and I slip and slide as I scrub. The grime lifts and disappears. It’s a hot day and I drip with sweat. The house is silent around me, quiet as a grave.

All her things are gone except for a few unwanted pieces of furniture: the matching 1960s dining room table and curio cabinet, an ancient ivory sofa with lion-claw feet, and a pink club chair that always sat in her bedroom. All the things that made this place her home for 75 years have vanished quietly, one at time, leaving with strangers.

As I scrub, I remember how my brother and I used to joke about her immaculate white carpet, the eighth wonder of the world. Well into her 90s, when I called my grandmother on a Saturday, she reported that she just moved the sofa back into place after vacuuming beneath it. I have never vacuumed beneath my sofa. She did so on a weekly basis.

She would hate how dirty her kitchen floor looks now. And she would have hated the estate sale, all those people wandering through her house, critiquing her things. People with tattoos and ripped jeans and dirty shoes. People with bad manners.

During the sale, I wandered among them and held myself back from explaining the significance of each item: “This porcelain horse with the broken leg sat next to my bed in the attic. I gave her that book for her 99th birthday. We used to watch college basketball on that TV. My grandfather died in that chair.”

They looked at her things and saw stuff. Junk. I looked and saw my whole life.

With all the furniture gone, I see how the house has become a little shabby. The immaculate white carpet is not so immaculate after all. Cracks cross the ceiling in most rooms. The basement seems gloomy without my grandfather’s collection of baseball caps and my grandmother’s gardening tools to give the space meaning.

I know prospective buyers will judge it for its flaws, for the yellow and green shag carpeting in the attic bedroom and the old-fashioned kitchen countertops installed in the 1960s. They will judge it by this old linoleum, so I scrub harder.

My grandmother was old-fashioned in every way imaginable. She went to church every Sunday. She never owned a cell phone or a DVD player. She traveled a little, but preferred being close to home, near her garden and her flowers and her friends.

Most of my life I rebelled against the life she would have preferred for me. I never married. I sought graduate degrees instead of settling down. I strayed all over the country and the world. I got tattoos and wore ripped jeans. I called myself spiritual, not religious. I have never scrubbed my own kitchen floor this way.

Here, on my hands and needs, this sponge and bucket are the altar and this is my prayer: Thank You. Thank You. Thankyouthankyouthankyou. Thank you for giving me a foundation of bedrock on which to build my life.

I am here on a hot, sunny Saturday in May, when I have a million other things to do in my busy and full life, because this is love, the only way I have left to give it back to her.

Her love meant money for college saved from a pension, an extra dessert made just for me because I don’t like nuts, $20 gas money when I visited, and a glass of cranberry juice before bedtime. Love meant praying for my soul because she wanted me to be in heaven with her someday.

Love meant always believing in me, even when my choices made no sense within the context of her world.

After her heart began to fail, I came to the assisted living center to visit her, feed her, wash her glasses and her dentures. I rubbed her back when it hurt and helped her put on a sweater when she was cold. After she was moved to the hospital and then Hospice in her final days, I held her hand while she died.

My parents and I worked together these past months to clear her house and prepare it for sale. And now these final tasks, this last scrub of the kitchen floor, are all that remain.

This is love. It is not pretty nor romantic nor inspiring. I am here on my knees, and it is dirty and hard. But this is what I have to give. This is my love for her. Here, in the grime, I am blessed and whole.

*****

Cynthia Briggs is a professor of counseling, a speaker and consultant, and a writer of fiction and creative non-fiction. She’s the co-editor of Snapdragon: A Journal of Art and Healing. Her memoir and essays have been published in numerous print and on-line journals. She teaches expressive arts and writing in her hometown of Winston-Salem, NC. You could contact her via her website.

Early Friday morning the moon turns full in the sign of Aquarius, directly opposing the sun to receive its full light in the sign of Leo.

Both fixed signs, this alignment runs energy inwardly into the realm of the Self, where the invitation is to flower in sustainable, stabilizing ways — ways that can reach out, from the cave of the radiant heart to inspire a world for generations to come.

Aquarius is like a current of electricity that initiates radical evolution. This current runs through each one of us in flashes of visionary insight, in the urge to experiment, and in creative innovations. With an ability to see the cosmic view, these insights often lead to sudden shifts of consciousness for the entire collective.

Standing at the dawn of the Great Turning, a time on our planet where the earth and all of her creatures are in extreme peril, we need each Wild Heart to be the visionary that can inspire an entire civilization to shift toward sustainability and communion.

No one being on this earth lives in isolation. We are all in communion one to another — each action we take, down to the tiniest, seemingly insignificant detail, ripples out to affect an entire cosmos.

With the sun in Leo, our radiant hearts are set to the tune of self-love, developing self-confidence and our ability as creative, unique individuals to inspire those around us into their own form of creativity. As we do so, we all rise together, taking our seat as a unique and necessary contributor to the world we are making together.

In essence, our ability to self-love is directly related to our ability to envision a world and a world-view that thrives in harmony — not only in our human communities, but in communion with the wider world we live in.

This full moon shines on the places where we may be holding our visions at bay… where we think to ourselves as we make our daily choices: “I’m only this one little person…what difference can I possibly make?” And she reminds us of a primary human competency: the daring to dream, envision and create.

Not only for ourselves, but as a revolutionary act.

We create the world we want to see; we participate in the evolution of our place, from the seed in the trembling heart, to the current of the collective, we all matter.

Like an outsider, loner, hermit, a self-imposed outcast in the wilderness, where you live in a cave, wash in the river, hunt and communicate with the trees, stars, sun and moon, while looking down on the rest of the world from some forgotten, lonely mountain?

Have you ever had that feeling of standing on the outside of the world everyone else lives in, watching all the groups of people swirl and float around you? All of them following the same rules, having the same beliefs, and mentality?

Although you can live in their world for a certain extended amount of time, sooner or later your spirits starts to itch and fidget for that mountain, again experiencing that feeling that you simply don’t fit into this world.

I’ve lived this feeling, and as much as I tried to shake it, it refused to leave, like an invisible birthmark tattooed upon my spirit. I questioned this feeling, interrogating it like a prisoner holding the secret to my soul.

Where did it come from? Why did it keep trying to take me back to that mountain? And how did it always find me, no matter how far I thought I had run?

I tried to deny its existence, to close my ears to its familiar voice, asking me to return to solitude. I shut my eyes to the reflection it tried to show me of myself, a reflection of me alone in the wilderness, outcast, dressed in nothing but the furs of my thoughts.

It was as if its voice would travel down from that mountain upon the wind, haunting me, whispering in my ear everywhere I went. And every time I opened my eyes, I would catch glimpses of it; glimpses of the reflection of my hermit-outcast-loner self, lounging comfortably on the edge of my peripheral vision, smiling at me.

So finally I gave in, as I was too tired to keep running.

My ears and eyes were too in love with their senses to sacrifice their total use in an attempt to shut this feeling out, and for some reason my spirit kept telling me that it was okay. This feeling was a part of me, and was simply trying to tell me something.

In the moments of that acceptance, in that moment in which I willingly allowed that feeling to guide me back to that mountain, where I don the fur of my thought like a familiar skin, I finally saw the beauty of seeing the world from such a distance; the freedom and beauty of stepping into the skin of the outsider in me.

From that mountain, the outcast in me became a watcher, an observer of the world and all the different groups swirling and mixing within it.

The loner that I was took that opportunity alone on that mountain, to not just watch but to learn and understand all the different beliefs, thoughts, values, and customs everyone else, living in their separate groups, followed.

Instead of becoming a part of one group in the world, I became a part of all groups. Up on that mountain, I gained a perspective wider and clearer than any I’d ever experienced being down in the world of social acceptance and conformity.

I learned the power of that mountain, of being the loner, the outsider, the outcast. It’s the power to use all that understanding, knowledge and wisdom to step comfortably into any group of your choosing and to learn, dance and experience everything the people in that group have to offer.

I learned that being an outsider was never actually something forced upon me, but was really a choice made deep down within my soul.

My mountain was a place from which I could not only collect my thoughts and look at the reflection of myself in the streams and rivers, but also a place from which I could better understand the world, and be free to come down into it whenever I pleased.

To come down and spend as much time as I liked immersed in all the groups of the world, having espied them from above and truly seeing everyone for whom they are, plus knowing how and why I felt a connection to each particular group.

Being the loner on that mountain also taught me something else, and that is the ability to be comfortable spending time with my soul; walking alone exploring the valleys, swimming in the rivers and streams, and hunting with the wolves, unafraid of taking new adventures alone.

Just like returning to the mountain, when you need to go, you go. No longer weary of solitude, but able to cherish it like a close friend.

You also lose the fear of speaking your mind, even when you know no one else will agree with your words. Up on that mountain I have experienced the feeling of being alone with nothing but the true reflection of who I am, and it is by accepting that reflection that I found peace with myself.

With that peace, you become comfortable communicating everything you are as a being with other people; no longer chasing acceptance but simply enjoying the fearlessness of sharing the parts of yourself that you’ve discovered.

And from the mountaintop, you also get to see which groups in the world excite and speak to you most. The wind carries you the sound of their music, which you can follow back down, eager and ready to fully explore the groups and places of your choosing.

But I am still, and will always deep down be, an outsider, the loner-hermit-outcast, who returns to the mountain to contemplate what I have learned down in the world.

To stare into the stream at my reflection and see if I have come back changed; to once again observe the world from such a breath taking perspective, marveling at the understanding and knowledge I can gain from taking time to watch, listen and absorb.

This is who I am, and if this is who you are then maybe one day you’ll return to the mountain and choose to stay there, spending the rest of your days enjoying the view, at peace and alone with yourself. Or maybe you’ll chose to lose yourself in one of your favorite groups in the world, and retire.

Whichever choice becomes my destiny, right now I know that the feeling of being on the inside and accepted is always amazing.

But it’s only truly amazing because I’ve viewed the whole world, spread out profoundly in front of me, from the peak of my mountain, standing alone, on the outside, a self-imposed outcast, simply enjoying the view.

*****

Emanuel Adelekun is a writer and a filmmaker, as well as a hip-hop-culture-loving warrior-b-boy. Always honest, he talks too much, always has an opinion, and tends to push people, but that’s okay with him because he has accepted that he’s a wild, fiery spirit who believes in true self-expression. He follows the path of always striving to develop, improve and better understand the frequency on which his soul vibes, making this his way of life. In the end, he believes in keeping it simple: stay open, live to explore, experience, and enjoy the moment. Cherish your mistakes, always be a student, don’t take shit from anyone, and treat others how you would like them to treat you. Through his words, Emanuel hopes to make connections with other similar souls, and maybe open people to something more inside themselves. You could contact Emanuel via his website, Instagram or Facebook.

As a child, I was never concerned with my appearance. I spent a lot of time with boys — my older brother, and my mother’s best friend’s two boys. I played sports, music, computer games and Tonka trucks. There wasn’t really any time to worry about what I looked like.

Then, at 13, I rocked into an all-girls high school having no idea about how to really be a girl.

It didn’t take me long to realize that I wasn’t a pretty girl.

My skin was pimply, my nose was big, my clothes were tomboyish, I had permanent bags under my eyes, and I couldn’t smile.

Smiling was dangerous. Smiling showed everyone my crooked teeth, my wrinkly eyes and my uneven lips. Even when I did smile, the corners of my lips don’t upturn like most people, so at my happiest, I thought I looked like I was putting on a half-smile. I really couldn’t see the point in smiling.

I became serious, depressed, quiet, invisible. I preferred to be invisible than to be seen (exposed) with all these flaws.I was a victim of bullying, not because of who I was, but because of how I looked. I was called names like feral, rattus and wench when bullies would see me, not only at school, but in my neighborhood too.

Over time I found one gift to my ugly appearance. The friends that I did have were rock solid. They loved me for who I was. Appearances didn’t matter.

But still, I couldn’t accept myself. I wouldn’t smile in photos and had some serious self-hatred going on. When I looked in the mirror, I only felt hate. I couldn’t find a single thing about my face that I liked. When I looked out into the world, I hated pretty girls. I hated myself and I hated everyone else.

When I finally realized that I could choose how I felt about myself, everything changed for me. Hating myself or anyone else didn’t change anything. All it did was keep me trapped.

Day by day, I started experimenting with liking myself just a little bit more than the day before, and not only have I stopped hating myself, I’ve fallen in love with all of who I am. I broke free.

Here are the top four things that got me from hating myself to owning my ugly:

1. Be grateful. Instead of hating my teeth when I looked in the mirror, I started to feel grateful for my teeth as they functioned perfectly in every other moment of my life.

To gain some perspective, I talked to my Mum whose teeth had been removed as a teen after a horrific car crash (she’s had dentures ever since) and I read stories about people who had lost their teeth or whose teeth were much more crowded and dysfunctional than mine. Not only did I stop hating my teeth, I actually started to like them!

Lesson here: Focus on function, rather than appearance.

2. Be awesome. When you’re a rad person, what you look like matters less than what you do and how you treat others.

Thankfully, despite being attacked by bullies throughout my childhood for being ugly, behind closed doors I was still creative and doing cool stuff, like making zines, playing guitar, reading books and writing poems and epic screenplays.

Lesson here: How you look doesn’t have to stop you from doing what you want to do.

You don’t have to dress up, buy expensive jewelry or even wear make-up if you don’t want to. Just do whatever it takes to align with your own version of beautiful. For me, it’s being barefoot with painted toenails. That’s it! That’s all I need to feel insanely beautiful.

There’s something about bare feet that represents freedom, relaxation and a carefree spirit. And nail polish… who knew it would be that simple?!

Lesson here: Don’t get caught up, thinking that you need to look beautiful in order to feel it. When you feel it, your true self shines.

4. Turn shame into ownership. I used to be ashamed of my teeth, my smile, my face, and I would hide it away, avoid eye contact and refuse to smile. Now I own my smile as a symbol of joy, an expression of happiness, a warm welcome to those around me. My smile is an extension of my heart.

I own my smile, and if it makes you uncomfortable, then that is not my problem.

Lesson here: Make self-love a regular practice in order to triumph over shame and to own and honor all parts of yourself, ‘ugly’ or not.

Just as beauty is subjective, so is ugliness. If someone else thinks that you’re ugly, you don’t have to believe them. The only way to conquer self-hatred is to love yourself instead.

Own it, sister. Every single part.

*****

Naomi Goodlet is all about sharing both practical and spiritual wisdom, without the rules! Join her on her quest to Rock Every Moment, say ‘Yes’ to life, and let your heart take the wheel. You could contact her via her website.

“In order to attract the coolest guy in the world, I had to become the coolest girl in the world. Like Marianne Williamson says really nicely: Cinderella was having a ball when she met Prince Charming.”

Her captivating story unfolds as she shares how she overcame her addiction to prescription drugs, cocaine, love, delusional relationships with men, and how her yoga practice has played a large part in her recovery and healing.

This interview will make you laugh, cry, and it will rev up the revolution your heart has been aching for.

Claudia’s eloquence and enthusiasm is moving and contagious. By the end of the podcast, you’ll have your own love-army lined up and ready to march!

6 Life-Saving Tips From Claudia {aka highlights from the podcast}:

1. Get real — it’s not about making a projecting of who you are.

2. Start having the time of your life.

3. Listen and use all of your wisdom.

4. Remember that it’s not all about you.

5. You know exactly what you need to do.

6. The secret to living a life you’ve always dreamed of is to start living it right now.

7. Ask yourself: How can I go with the pull of life and make it better?

Her writing has appeared in media outlets including The New York Observer, Thought Catalog,Mantra Yoga & Health and Positively Positive. She hosts The Yoga Podcast and co-hosts the Ask Altucher show. She runs retreats all over the world on yoga and practical spiritual living.

Her blog, ClaudiaYoga.com, has attracted over 2.6+ million visitors since inception.

******

Want to be interviewed or got a hot connection or recommendation for Rebelle TV? Email us right now at rebelletv@rebellesociety.com.

We can’t wait to hear from you! Motivating tired hearts to start living a life they absolutely love and adore is now or never! We’re freaked out too, but do it anyway. Join us?

This episode was brought to you by Rebelle TV, the Create.Out.Loud unscripted rebelle outlet for artists, creators, change and noise makers. Rebelle TV a vital organ of Rebelle Society and produced and graciously hosted in creative collaboration with Where Is My Guru.

If you’d like to advertise and share your he{art} via Rebelle TV write to us at advertise@rebellesociety.com for super sweet rates + opportunities.

*****

Own your quirks & get super confident about your talents — sign-up for Tanya’s free weekly newsletter here — we’ll rebelle, speak Unicorn, do yoga, write and we’ll spend a lot of time giggling and playing in the Laboratory of the Self.

If you proposed to yourself today, would you squeal in delight and accept? My guess is, probably not.

Most of us have a very abusive relationship with ourselves, both physically and emotionally. Think about it — we tell her she’s fat and ugly, we ignore her when she’s full, we starve her to try to make her skinny, and when that doesn’t work, we tell her to shut up by stuffing pizza in her face.

Be impeccable with your word

In The Four Agreements, Don Miguel Ruiz teaches the first agreement is to be impeccable with your word. The word impeccable means without sin. And a sin is anything you do that goes against yourself.

“When you are impeccable, you take responsibility for your actions, but you do not judge or blame yourself.” ~ The Four Agreements

Being impeccable isn’t about being perfect. You’ve had decades of self-conditioning to beat yourself up and let your inner critic rule your world. It’s only natural that she’s going to creep up and try to regain control from time to time.

Start small — choose something about your body that you love right now.

If you’re having a hard time with this, love your heart for pumping blood through your veins, love your lungs for giving you air to breathe, love your muscles for taking you where you want to go.

Then slowly work up to other parts like your hair or your eyes.

Eventually I want you find a way to love your stomach, thighs, butt, arms, or whatever your problem area is. Even if you have to pretend at first, this will have a profound effect on you.

You must love the body you have now in order to create the body you want. The journey has to feel like the destination. If you love your body now, you’ll make choices that reflect that love. And when you do release the extra weight, it will have been out of love, and not hatred for your own body.

This new self-love practice may be uncomfortable. But as you know, growth and change always cause discomfort. This is what you signed up for.

My secret recipe for Self-Love Potion #9

* 1 part Forgiveness

* 1 part Acceptance

* 1 part Vision

* 1 part Unconditional Love

Self-love means forgiving yourself for your past choices. You don’t need to suffer through the choice over and over again by punishing yourself. Every choice you made was made with a positive intention — even the ones you’re having a hard time releasing.

Self-love means allowing yourself to experience pleasure. Savor delicious foods and have fabulous experiences, no matter what size you are.

Self-love will require you to set boundaries with other people… and not everyone will love this. When you love yourself, you don’t do things out of guilt or obligation, you do them because you choose to do them from a place of love and being the woman you want to be.

Sometimes self-love means saying No or disappointing other people. In the end, you’ll be the best version of yourself if you’re honoring your needs and desires. In order to be the best mom, wife, friend, sister, daughter, and/or employee, you have to put yourself first.

This doesn’t mean that you’re the only one that matters and that you should ignore everyone else’s feelings.

“To love oneself is the beginning of a lifelong romance.” ~ Oscar Wilde

The bottom line is this: You’re not broken. You don’t need to fix yourself. You’re perfectly imperfect just the way you are.

It doesn’t matter what size you are or what your weight is. If you don’t find that self-love, it’s always going to feel like something is missing in your life. You deserve love now, and that love has to start from within.

*****

Silvana Perelli is a Life Stylist and Weight Loss Coach for women who have unsuccessfully tried counting calories, juice cleanses, or any other diet on the market and are ready to stop fighting their bodies. She’s the author of ‘The Charmed Woman’s Guide to Diet-Free Weight Loss: An Elegant Approach to Losing Weight Gracefully’, which you can download for free on her website. Silvana is the creator of the online playground BelleQuaintrelle.com, where she provides free inspiration on creating a charmed life filled with passion and magic.

When it comes to the relationship to and with our bodies, self-acceptance offers interesting challenges. I recall days where I would do everything in my power to keep my eyes off the mirror before getting in the shower, so I would not have to experience the regret of being in this body.

We may see deficiencies.

We may experience failure.

But, there is space for much more — starting with acceptance.

Recently, a client of mine explained she made the choice to purchase new clothing that properly fit her, thus stopped prioritizing size, and went for options that made her feel confident, beautiful and empowered.

Let’s be clear. This. Is. Huge.

Choosing to accept and honor the body we are in, by no longer attempting to cram, expand or change it into something else, is powerful. When attempting to cram, expand or change our bodies, we are consciously or subconsciously telling our bodies, and thus ourselves, that it (or in other words, we) should be different.

Choosing otherwise is an active choice to deeply self-accept.

However, self-acceptance is defined as acceptance of self in spite of deficiencies.

Pardon my language, but f*ck that!

This definition is particularly dangerous when it comes to relationship to and with our bodies. It explains that in order to self-accept, there must be a deficiency. And unless you are dealing with a magnesium deficiency or something of the sort, deficiency, lacking, or any similar term is not useful. In fact, it’s incredibly harmful.

Nothing about your body is deficient.

Let me repeat that, nothing about your body is deficient.

Let us redefine the meaning of self-acceptance as the choice to declare that deficiencies aren’t deficiencies at all. Instead, they are original pieces of our unique and powerfully beautiful and dynamic bodies that are here to be honored and celebrated, and absolutely not declared as deficiencies.

So,I declare to accept and honor that I am not deficient.

This is especially significant when it comes to our bodies. For years, our bodies have been a conversation, a political discussion, something to debate. I invite you to join me in choosing to no longer allow our bodies to be a topic of discussion regarding its pros and cons, positives and deficiencies. Our bodies are not theirs to interrogate.

Choose to no longer enable the discussion regarding the labeling of our bodies as anything but ours and beautiful.

To add,self-acceptance is not to be confused with giving up on ourselves.

There is an accepted social norm that if we choose to accept ourselves, then therefore we are willing to give up on goals and perhaps even our overall health and wellness.

I have heard clients say: “I’ll accept myself and just stay fat. Whatever.” (There is a reclaiming of the word fat. However, in this case, the client claiming her fatness does not do it in a way that signifies ownership and self-acceptance in our newly molded definition of it. In this case, fat is bad and therefore she is giving up.)

Let’s make it clear right now that the idea of ‘giving up’ is intrinsically linked with the idea that we actually have a deficiency.

What would change if we owned it all? Don’t give up on yourself. Instead…

Claim.

Your.

Power.

Own what you have. Honor it. And drop the notion that anything about you or your body is deficient.

When we stop trying to change what is deficient, and begin to see ourselves as complete and truly acceptable, we no longer seek to take parts of ourselves away and can truly begin to empower ourselves and rise into embodied beings.

Repeat these mantras twice a day for the next week or so. See what happens.

I choose to respectfully adorn myself in clothing, I accept to honor that I, body included, am not deficient. I affirm to make everyday an opportunity to empower myself.

And as always, go gently.Honor that you are not expected to transform overnight. Hone in on what already makes your feel empowered and deeply nurture that!

The more you find the space to truly accept and honor your body, the more you will witness the walls and blocks in your life crumble, opening up space for opportunity and empowerment in unimaginable and magical ways.

*****

Natalie Marie Shapiro is a healer and strategist empowering women to find peace with food and love for their bodies. Her mission is to support women to once and for all drop shame around their bodies so they can instead step into freedom and fearlessness. She is the creator and host of The Empowered Series. Natalie is also a yogi, nomadic living enthusiast, true Pisces meandering between reality and everywhere else, student of sociology, lover of dance and movement, and passionate player within the body positive movement. You can connect with her via her website, Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram.

I was thrown there by the past as a kite in the sky. I now wait for someone to tell me how to move on, how to keep on walking on that road called Life.

Right now, I am merely nothing. My own self being the representation of this moment, of that specific instant between what I was and what I will be. The space between no longer and not yet. I don’t even truly exist.

I know action may only be implemented right here and right now. How stressing this moment can be, so dreadful but so essential. It is so significant — it will determine the future, the day after, the year after. I can feel anxiety growing all around, clinging to me as second skin.

I am quite and simply devastated, suffocating under an incredible amount of pressure.

I know I need to act now, to do something with the time being, but I am not capable of even moving. It is all trapped inside.

I can see and imagine my present drifting away, as the minutes go I can feel it escaping, I breathe in and out but nothing gets transformed, nothing gets created. It will be gone, forever gone, in a second… in the time it takes for a breath. Surely this instant could be a world of possibilities.

I could turn it to gold if I were able. I could build a dreamed future. I could gather my strengths and make me proud of myself, but I am totally frozen. Caught in anxiety.

The present is where I am supposed to be and act out of, but I am a lost little child, and I don’t know what to do with it. I need to catch it, but I cannot find anything great enough to fill it with. I need a reason to be, a magical idea or maybe a cause, something to stand up for. Anything brilliant, before it flies away.

I need to act right here and right now to save the future — to save my skin. But it is just me now, surrounded by all my uncertainties.

I am nothing but a transparent bridge between who I was and who I will be — an imperceptible thread.

I can feel everything could be spoilt by my own self if I fail in all the present instants. If I transform life into a series of moments like this one. I need to choose a side, but I am torn between Life and Death, between fighting for life, movement, progress and giving up.

It’s the bridge of Life, with our present being the link between the past and the future.

I am not just that instant full of insecurities.

I am also that little girl with her crazy flames. I am all her sparkling hopes; I can feel them deep inside: her shy follies, her dancer’s dreams, her savant ballets. I am all these people that made this little brunette become who I am now.

I can feel their calm strength, I still hear the magic words, still see their gentle smiles, furtive, discreet, behind the paintings. I still see my father coming around with flowers; I am full of recollections from our sunny past.

I can now feel that little girl deep inside; she leaps in my guts, seeks a way out to make a jolly, hoppy game of the present. I feel all the idealistic scents of the past, both inside and outside. I have surrounded and stolen them.

I am her too. The young woman I was a few years ago. She is fighting — struggling for a way out here in our crazy world. She is so sincere; she is such a true thing amongst our lying world. She is music, passion, freedom and adventures. She travels, finds herself and gets lost, and finds her way back.

She is decorating the world with ideas, and I still feel her swirling current in my brain.

On this transparent bridge, I am with her. We are fearless — she doesn’t need any mold, any man or anyone to be herself. She is my energy of today.

Look, I am not nothing, I am all the past victories. All the roads we have opened, all the intense travels we have gone through, both far away and deep inside.

I am all the smiles we have run into. The friends who have stayed there from the beginning, bearing the ups and downs of life — the ones who have never turned their back in spite of the turbulences. I am all the stretched hands, the laughing smiles.

I am all the people we have loved, the occasions of destiny, the ones still around and the missing ones. I still hear their voices deep inside, the purple and soft melody of a gentle past. I am the ones who have revealed our potential, bringing us to our reality, opening new ways.

I do remember their sentences, their heartwarming looks, and their loving embraces.

I also still hear the Machiavellian sentences of betrayals, the actions of devil, dishonest and brutal words, all the lessons we took with us as a luggage of life knowledge. They made us the warrior we are now.

We are an assortment of colored paintings, gathering what we took from pink days and from the greyest ones. We are all our victories, the unexpected recoveries, our unpredicted failures, an encyclopedia of feelings, of shared and unforgettable moments.

I am all the places we have seen, all the people we have met in other worlds, through time and space. I am all the faces I may never see again. We have tied on our hearts our powerful words, we will remain connected thanks to photographed icons of a festal past.

I am all the places we have been to. They keep the memory of our cheerful paces, our grateful gazes.

I am all of them… all of these.

And with these recollections — the whole secret box — I will get back on my feet. I feel the strength coming back, their strength, and it goes up from my belly, down from my tears, and adds roots firmly under my heart.

I am not nothing. I can now feel them all behind my back. That is where the magic key is, and I don’t want to disappoint them.

I can feel them carrying me, bringing me upwards. We are all together. They make me feel just as a part of Life, a part of the same shared issues, an illustration of the madness of our paths.

We all are lost little children fighting with our own crazy worlds, but all on this puzzling boat called Life. We stand there all together.

I am Life. We are Life.

*****

Sophie Gregoire is a thinker. You may often find her with a new idea or a new concept to explain, holding a notebook and pencil. Also found reading and writing, she is more than anything an independent soul. She enjoys traveling and getting lost in new places, namely in Asia. She says it helps understanding our worlds, its people and the humankind. She loves writing to transform her endless thoughts into some kind of reality, and to keep the little piece of sanity she still has. She savors coffee, encounters, Yoga and meditation, and cats… while her own cat is her greatest muse! You could contact Sophie via Facebook.

My parents divorced when I was 6, and Digby was dying on and off for a decade until he did. Digby wasn’t like other people’s dads. No suit; no shoes. No short back and sides — his black curly hair fell to his shoulders.

Mostly golden brown from secret trips to Greece or days on Durban beach, his light blue eyes sparkled with the hangover of last night’s party. Life was an excuse to escape. A game of hide, don’t seek. Normal didn’t apply and things were topsy-turvy inside out.

Beer made you strong, children were for adult conversation, and stories about people dying were jokes. Money was funny and kept in little plastic bags. Monopoly was for cheating the bank, the street for skateboarding, and the ocean was God.

Homes weren’t necessary, he explained, when he lived in his friend’s small boat in the harbor. Rules just didn’t apply.

“I bet your dad has to go to work everyday and has short hair and wears a tie?” he’d say, bouncing on my cousin’s trampoline, to my friends who’d agree. “And I bet that he can’t do this!” as he’d double flick-flack in the air, landing with a triumphant “Ta Daaa!”

While the 11-year-old me outwardly cringed with an embarrassed “Daaaaad!”, the me on the inside lit up and smiled. No one’s dad could jump like that. Mine was different.

Non-traditional in any sense of security, safety or provision, my Digby introduced me to new ideas, asked interesting questions and posed the possibility of freedom. Of a life unbound by society’s norms and expectations, of tradition and should’s.

There weren’t any have to’s with him. It was about doing what you wanted, not what others expected. Screw the consequences — we’re all dying, right? He was the Peter Pan to my mother’s Mary Poppins.

Practically perfect in every way, my mom tried hard to keep it all tightly together, sealed with a smile. In survival mode of securing our finances and future, she made sure everything was picture perfect, set to a strict timer of do it right.

With a smile and the world smiles with you, cry and you cry alone mindset, there was nothing as important as being a dignified lady of composure. Even if being meant seeming, you simply must act the part.

Nothing got in the way of the routine: from Tuesday’s Mommy and Daddy at home to Wednesday’s we’re living with Granny now, the beat went on. The less said, the better.

“We’re getting divorced. Yes, we love you. Bedtime!”

Behind her secure mask, I sensed and felt her hurt myself. I picked it up from where she’d pushed it down. It expressed itself in my boils and ulcers, in my scratching till I bled, in my underdeveloped body, in my mass of anxiousness. I hated Digby for her, the causer of her pain.

And I was torn because although he’d been cruel to her, I loved him all the same.

This cheating liar, this embarrassment and loser, this potential beggar on the street, this better-off-dead beat Digby was/is part-me.

His blood, my blood, his bizarre humor, creative talent, showmanship, sparkle in the eye, mine. So much of me in him and he in me; try to stop it and I’d be torn within. His absence as a child, his death in my teens, mentioned once and never again, didn’t erase the fact that he existed because in his place, I exist.

This man we do not mention because it happened so long ago and it’s time to move on and get over things cannot be erased like a dirty smudge on the pages of my history. His story is etched into my being.

I can feel him looking out into the world through my eyes. I sense the Digby inside of me: the other side of the tracks in my veins pumping the Benoni in my blood through my heart.

I feel him in my desperate craving for freedom above all else, a need for a life that’s alternate and different, my disdain for the ordinary and expected, the suffocation I feel in security.

And while my surface is mother, my shadow is father, and I’m learning how to give it space to shine. To embrace that I while I was raised to be tame, I crave to be real. Death cannot change the repercussion that I remain Digby’s daughter. I cannot pretend it away.

The effects are confusing to others: what I want doesn’t make sense; it doesn’t look as it should. I’m misunderstood.

Part domesticated, part wild: a walking, talking contradiction. And at the core of my dual nature is the me that’s whole. The me that’s greater than the combination of my blood and childhood and life experiences — it’s the me that is possible.

The truth is that with our innate free will is the ability to become transcendent. To rise above our self-imposed limiting beliefs, past paradigms and traumatic childhoods.

I am not defined by my father’s failings, nor my mother’s feelings about them. I am free to embrace the aspects I choose, and release those that restrict my own unique nature.

I may adopt my father’s lust for a fantasy reality and my mother’s ability to maintain a good face regardless of the situation, but the combined effect is an original one. I am a child of truth, and within me is infinite possibility to create and shape myself, drawing from the strength and lessons of my physical creators.

My ultimate manifestation is unique to me. No one thing defines who I am. Unbound, unlimited, all possible when mindful.

The complexity of the combination we create ourselves to be comes down to the simplest truth to consider: it is our choice.

*****

Lauren Wallett‘s life reads like novel: From being a child actress in a small town, South Africa, to being a centerfold in a men’s magazine; from her first paid job at 6 months old to selling two of her start-up businesses by 26; from living a dual existence on both an isolated farm and inner city loft under construction, simultaneously, to fully embracing the concept of being a ‘global citizen’ and living simply, in the world… having retired, been married and divorced by 27 and starting all over again… she has lived many alternate life paths already, and is now, just beginning. Her work is a reflection of her deepest philosophical and spiritual values. Lauren is a deeply passionate, ambitious woman, who is a discoverer of life in all its facets. She enjoys documenting her journey along the way, sharing with others and continually learning from them. She contributes toward Rebelle Society as she feels that the writers and readers are from the same unnamed tribe she belongs to. Her contributions are an appropriate outlet for her soul — a platform to grapple with her human questioning of Love, Happiness, Soulmates, and being different. Connect with her on Twitter, Facebook or her business and life blog.